A Gentle Hand
by Caitriona3
Summary: Az's face brings out the worst in some people, and harsh words hurt.  Part of the "Freedom Series" - comes between "A Revelation" and "Justice Denied".


_Disclaimer: Despite protests to the contrary, I do not own Wyatt Cain…or anything else to do with Tin Man. Unbetaed! Errors are all mine…_

Everything went downhill in the space of a breath.

It had been DG's idea. Her sister needed to get out of the palace, and she figured they could get lost in the crowds filling the city streets for the Harvest Festival. Jeb and his father opposed the plan, but since the Queen and Consort had approved it, they could only prepare for the worst. For an hour or so, everything went fine. The sisters enjoyed moving from one stall to another, buying little trinkets and sharing some fresh fruit. They behaved like normal girls out for a fun morning. Just as they discussed returning home for lunch, the men's fears were realized.

Someone in the crowd recognized Azkadelia.

Even as Az turned to say something, a hand came out of the crowd and shoved her forward. A sharp cry of fear tore out of her throat even as she tripped and fell. Her hood fell back, revealing her long tresses, wide eyes and familiar features. A gasp echoed through the square. Jeb gave a long, sharp whistle as he shoved his way to her side.

Reaching down to help her up, he kept his body between hers and as much of the crowd as he could. With a glance to the side, he could tell that his father had DG tucked behind him, sheltered by a permanent building. He moved to do the same with the elder princess. Her safety was his responsibility.

"Black-hearted whore!"

An unkempt man with wild eyes and ragged hair stepped out of the crowd. Raising a hand and shaking a finger in her direction, he cursed her very existence.

"Your fault!" he screamed. "My family…my farm…it is all your fault! Vile woman! Breeder of death!"

Jeb could feel Az trembling behind him. Instead of backing into the corner, she had buried her face in his back and he could feel every shudder that ran through her delicate frame as the man continued with his violent harangue. Neither of the Cain men bothered to say anything.

_Arguing with the insane IS insane._

However, as the man strode forward, arms reaching out, Jeb drew his weapon and took aim. The crowd froze. The man came to an abrupt stop, staring at the rock steady figure before him. He actually hissed at the younger Cain, eyes flaring with hatred and betrayal. Although he stepped back, his hands curled into fists and his face went even wilder. It would not take much to drive him over the edge.

"How could you?" he shrieked. "Traitor! You are supporting _her_? She is evil! Evil incarnate! Have you no shame? What kind of person are you?"

Jeb's aim never waivered even as the man's spittle landed on him. Ready to shoot if needed, he maintained his protective stance in front of the princess. The crowd behind the man shifted uncomfortably. While most of them had seen the video showing the witch and Azkadelia's release from years of possession, none of them were ready to step forward on her behalf. Jeb could not decide if he should be understanding of their mindset, or disappointed in their lack of conviction.

The strange man stopped pacing a few feet in front of Jeb. His crazed eyes focused on Jeb's steady ones. It came down to a strange battle of wills. The man almost seemed to think he could force Jeb out of the way by sheer personality. Jeb never moved and the man finally snapped.

He surged forward. Jeb pulled the trigger. The gun bucked. The bullet found its target, throwing the man backwards into the crowd. People skittered sideways, staring at the body in amazement and Jeb's cold eyes in fear. He was not quite sure what they had expected. Did they think he would hand his charge over at the whim of a madman? He certainly had no remorse for taking the shot.

At that moment, the Royal Guard made it to the scene. As they worked to clear the scene and secure the area, Jeb eyed them with cool disdain. He had whistled for them at the start of the crisis, and they had taken much too long to answer. If he had been taken down, his father might not have been able to protect both princesses and they could have lost them.

One young man ran up and saluted.

"Commander, what are your orders?"

Jeb raised an eyebrow.

"Secure the scene and identify that man. Find out if he had any group affiliations and bring me word as soon as possible."

When his father joined them, taking charge of both princesses, he took a few moments to issue further orders to his officers. Then, he walked over to Azkadelia. She flinched slightly. He sighed. They had begun to find a happy medium, where they could work together. Now, one man's words had set everything back. Taking a deep breath, he gently took her arm.

"Come on, Princess," he said. "Let's go home."

Without speaking, she turned to accompany him. Keeping her head down, she let her hair fall around her face and shield it from unfriendly eyes. DG walked on her other side, but Az had pulled into herself and did not speak. The few people who began to move in their direction found themselves facing two sets of cold, calculating eyes. They wisely chose to turn away.

When they reached the palace, Az finally lifted her head to reveal wounded eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but gave up and ran out the back, apparently headed for the gardens. When her sister tried to follow, Jeb caught her arm.

"Let me," he said, glancing at his remaining companions. His father nodded and pulled the younger princess away.

"Come on, Princess," he said, running a soothing hand over her shoulder. "Let Jeb talk to Az first."

"But…," she started, staring after her sister in concern.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "Az knows you love her, and that you're on her side. She needs a reminder that others are too."

With that, he gave a nod to his son and led her away. Jeb took a deep breath and, running his hand through his hair, turned to follow the elder princess' path. As he wound his way through the garden to the gazebo, he began to hear a soft weeping. Coming around the final turn, he found his quarry. She had not gone all the way to the gazebo, but rather had either fallen or cast herself to the ground amidst the tiger lilies. Her head buried in her arms, she wept. He sighed.

Walking slowly over, he knelt beside her and reached down. She shied away from his hand, having sensed his presence without looking up. Although he paused for the space of a breath, he did not pull back. He changed his mind about pulling her up though. Instead, he shifted around to sit beside her and placed his hand on her back. Without speaking, he simply moved his hand in soothing circles, letting her try and pull herself together.

The lunch hour came and went. The sun began moving further and further to the west. She did not seem willing to move, and he remained vigilant at her side. Finally, finally she moved and sat up. She still refused to look at him. He moved so his shoulder touched hers.

"Most don't agree with him, you know," he said, keeping his voice soft and steady.

"Enough do," she whispered.

"Can't help there're ignorant fools out there."

"What did I do to him to…." she started.

"No!" he interrupted fiercely. She flinched and he forced himself to calm down. "It wasn't you. She may have worn your face, but the Witch is the one who did those things – not you. It was not your fault. If I have to, I will remind you three times a day until you get that through your stubborn head."

She did not answer for a moment. His eyes remained focused on the side of her face. He could see the tear tracks and dirt smudges. Pulling away, he reached his pocket and brought out a handkerchief. Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her to face him. With gentle hands and a compassionate gaze, he carefully wiped the marks of her tears away. Even when finished, he did not release her, but kept his eyes firmly on hers.

"Why are you still here?" she demanded, her eyes transfixed by his intent stare.

"Because you need me to be."


End file.
